


words are futile devices

by precognition



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Introspection, Sabo Gets His Memories Back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/precognition/pseuds/precognition
Summary: (title from futile devices - sufjan stevens)Marco tugs him into one of their less used meeting rooms and closes the door behind him, dropping to sit at the table. Ace sits down next to him and politely waits for him to explain. It takes a good thirty seconds, and when he looks up Ace is sure there’s three new stress lines on his forehead that weren’t there before.“Could you please explain to me exactly why you know the name of the Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army?”
Relationships: Portgas D. Ace & Sabo
Comments: 14
Kudos: 137





	words are futile devices

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rikubraveheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikubraveheart/gifts).



> sabo gets his memories back, complete with a lot of introspection about ace and sabo's brotherhood and cameos from marco and koala. mostly lighthearted, but does touch on some deeper topics. very self indulgent.

The inn is just the right level of noise for Ace - loud enough to create a comfortable atmosphere, but not so loud that the noise starts to grate on his ears. He’s just settled into a tankard of beer and far more food than anyone should rightfully be able to eat (but still less than he could if he were left to his own devices) when he hears a laugh cut through the noise of the room - a little deeper than he remembers, but just as full of barely-restrained amusement, the kind that feels almost as if it’s at your expense, but not so mean-spirited that you need to care. A laugh he knows like the back of his hand, like the tattoo on his shoulder. It belongs to a man sitting a few seats down at the bar, his blond curls peeking out of the back of his top hat, and Ace’s breath catches in his throat. He can’t stop himself from breathing out his brother’s name.

“Sabo?”

The man turns, and it’s a move so familiar that for a split second Ace allows himself to hope, but when his face is revealed beneath the shadow of his hat, the features are all wrong, and the crow’s feet and liver spots are those of someone far older than Sabo would have been. The man stares at Ace for a second in confusion, and he summons up the manners Makino taught him and offers a short bow and his apologies for having mistaken the man for someone else. The look of complete dismissal on the face of the stranger with his brother’s laugh is maybe what hurts the most.

* * *

When Sabo is back in his safehouse that night, and he’s removed the makeup that serves the dual purpose of hiding his scar and aging him three decades, and the prosthetics that reshape his nose and chin, he stares at his face in the mirror. His hair is pushed back for once, and the pink-white edges of his scar stand out against his skin. Not for the first time, he wonders what he was doing the day he lost half his sight and ten years of his memory to the flames of a Celestial Dragon. With a sigh, he pushes his bangs back into place, and reaches for his secure Den Den Mushi. He has more important things to consider right now, like how the hell the Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates knows his name.

* * *

Koala is nursing a headache when the secure line to Sabo’s personal Den Den Mushi starts ringing. She holds back a sigh, massaging her temples. The newer recruits were acting up during instruction today, and Sabo’s absence has left her with more paperwork than she should have time for. She’s nothing if not a dutiful officer, though, so she picks up a pen and injury report as the Den Den connects her to her partner. Sabo’s voice is cool as he rattles off the string of numbers that confirms his identity, and she matches his tone as she answers in turn, checking off another box on the report she’s working on. The sigh he lets out after she does has her looking up, though - the mission he’s on is supposed to be simple information gathering, but she knows the tone of stress he’s barely suppressing signifies something bigger has happened. 

“Ne, Sabo-kun. What’s going on?”

Sabo’s only response - asking her if there’s any reason any of the Whitebeards should know his name- is what finally gets her to put her report aside. The answer, of course, is no - he doesn’t have an official bounty poster, and even their liaison with the crew only knows him as “Chief of Staff”. For sensitive information like that to have gotten out and, if what Sabo says is true, to a commander they don’t even deal with, is a problem that requires her full attention. She can already feel her headache returning with a vengeance, and when he insists on going to handle the problem himself, it threatens to turn into a full-blown migraine. 

“What the _hell_ are you talking about, Sabo-kun? If they already know who you are, you could be walking into a trap. You’re not just a minor officer anymore, you know we -”  
  
Sabo cuts her off before she can finish. “Koala, there’s no one else nearby, and you know we can’t send a low-ranking officer to deal with the most powerful crew in the new world. If my name got out somehow, it was my fault, and I’m going to deal with the consequences.”

She sighs. Koala knows well enough that he won’t be swayed in his conviction now, and he’s already switching into the smoother register he uses when he’s working. She hates when he treats her like a target, and she considers forcing him to pull rank on her just to get back at him. Her headache isn’t letting up, though, and the mountain of paperwork on her desk seems to have grown since she last looked at it.  
  
“If you haven’t called within forty eight hours, I’m coming to get you.” She informs him, and promptly hangs up. The reports need her far more than her wayward partner does right now.

* * *

Marco senses the hand reaching for his wallet, but waits until he feels the pickpocket latch onto it securely before reaching back and grabbing their wrist, pulling them alongside him.

“I’d rather keep that, thanks.” 

He turns to look at the person he’s just accosted and is greeted with a smile that he, unfortunately, knows very well. “Ah. It’s you.”

The Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army gives him a cheeky grin as he offers back Marco’s wallet. “It’s me!” He agrees cheerfully. “Did you miss me?”

Marco declines to answer, navigating the two of them away from the crowded market and back towards the Moby. “I don’t recall us having a meeting scheduled.” He chooses his words carefully - the Revolutionaries are one of their most helpful intelligence allies, and Pops has taken a liking to the Chief of Staff besides. 

The man bats his eyelashes exaggeratedly. “What, I can’t just come to see my favorite Division Commander?”

Marco rolls his eyes. “You’re too young for me, and I don’t mix business and pleasure. I’m sure you’re aware of both those facts, so why are you _actually_ here?”

The Chief of Staff pouts. “You’re no fun.”

Marco shrugs. He has no desire to play the Revolutionary’s game of double-speak, nor to put on one of the grins the other takes on and off like his long coat. The exaggerated falseness of the his expressions always sets the pirate on edge. 

Sensing that Marco won’t play along, the Chief of Staff pulls them off into a small clearing. Now that Marco can look him in the eyes, he detects a hint of tension in his face, and wonders what exactly could be bring the man is here himself, rather than sending a lesser ranked member of the Army.

The Revolutionary’s boots clack as he perches himself on a tree stump, pipe swinging lightly on his back. “I need to know why Second Division Commander Portgas D. Ace knows my name.”

At first, Marco isn’t sure how to respond. “He’s a Division Commander, Chief of Staff, he attends intelligence briefings.” 

Something about the look on the other man’s face makes him pause before he can elaborate on exactly when and how their connection to the Revolutionaries is discussed in meetings.

“Not that name, Marco.” 

The use of his given name rather than his title doesn’t escape Marco, and it finally clicks what the other man means. 

“Ah.” 

He rubs his temples. What the hell has that kid gotten himself into now?

* * *

Ace is having a pretty good day, all things considered. He got over the distress of the previous night by passing out as soon as he got back to his cabin, which let him wake up early enough to help Thatch with cooking breakfast. His childhood culinary knowledge didn’t extend much beyond the length of time meat needs to be cooked over a campfire before it makes you sick, so learning to cook dishes he didn’t even know the names of back then is a treat. He’s putting the finishing touches on his hollandaise sauce when one of the men from Thatch’s division comes in to tell him Marco is looking for him. He glances at the chef to make sure he can leave, but Thatch just waves him off with a chuckle. 

“No worries, Ace, I can handle the rest on my own. Get out of here before Marco blows a gasket or something.” 

Ace thinks about how Marco gets when he’s angry, shivers, and gets out of there.

It doesn’t take him long to find Marco, waiting by Pops’ chair, but he does notice an unusual lack of other commanders on deck. He decides better of making a joke about it when he notices the look on Marco’s face - sure, the other commander is always stressed, the tension is practically built into his face at this point, but rarely does he actually look worried.

“Uh. Hi?”

Marco turns from where he’s been talking to what looks like someone from Haruta’s division.

“There you are, Ace. Come with me.”

Ace raises an eyebrow, but obligingly stumbles behind Marco as the older man pulls him along.

“What’s going on, Marco?”

Marco tugs him into one of their less used meeting rooms and closes the door behind him, dropping to sit at the table. Ace sits down next to him and politely waits for him to explain. It takes a good thirty seconds, and when he looks up Ace is _sure_ there’s three new stress lines on his forehead that weren’t there before.

“Could you please explain to me exactly why you know the name of the Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army?”

Ace stares at Marco. Marco stares back. He comes to the conclusion Marco isn’t joking, and immediately blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“The Revolutionary Army has a Chief of Staff?”

Marco drops his face back in his hands. It’s going to be a long day.

* * *

When Marco has finished explaining what, exactly, the Revolutionary Army is and how its chain of command works, Ace looks somewhat distraught, but at least he finally seems to be understanding the gravity of the situation.

“But I didn’t even know they _had_ a Chief of Staff!” He protests. “How could I know his _name_?!” 

Marco shrugs. He has no clue, but he’s also not about to call one of their most powerful allies a liar to his face.

“Look, just. Come with me, we’ll go talk to him and get this sorted out, okay?” His stress must show on his face, because Ace just nods quietly and stands up to follow him out the door.

Jozu is waiting outside the cabin the Revolutionary is waiting in, and he looks up when Marco and Ace approach, giving them both a nod.

“Haruta is in there with him right now, trying to charm some information out of him. Doesn’t seem like they’re having much success, but they do seem to be having fun.”

Marco sighs. Haruta having fun is rarely a good sign, but at least the Revolutionary is occupied. He motions for Ace to follow him as he steps into the cabin. 

The younger commander hesitates for a second before crossing the threshold, giving Marco just enough time to turn towards him and watch the way his face changes at the sight of the Revolutionary. Shock, first. Then hurt, and then rage, and Marco’s Observation Haki is a beat too late to catch Ace before he punches the Chief of Staff square in the jaw.

* * *

The blond stares at Ace for a second, and then, with a flutter of his lashes, his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses. Distantly, Marco can hear Haruta ask what the fuck is going on, but it doesn’t register through the haze of panic he’s feeling at the fact that Ace just _punched_ the Chief of Staff. This is going to be a diplomatic nightmare, even if the man doesn’t decide to just annihilate the commander when he wakes up.

The phrasing his thoughts have taken has Marco pausing for a second. He may not have been fast enough to stop Ace, but he tracked that punch - Ace wasn’t even using Haki, there’s no way it should’ve taken an experienced fighter like the Chief of Staff down like that. And besides, the man didn’t even try to dodge. There’s something to this that he’s missing. Marco tugs lightly on his hair to keep himself grounded, and snaps himself into business mode. 

“Haruta, take the Chief of Staff to the infirmary. Make sure his bed isn’t near the rest of the patients, and don’t let anyone touch him until I get there. Take Jozu with you, have him keep everyone away from the infirmary until further notice.” 

The younger commander nods, lifting the Revolutionary with ease and slipping out to inform Jozu. Ace moves to follow him, still staring at the blond, but Marco grabs his arm in a firm grip.

“Not so fast, kid. You and I are going to have a talk.”

Ace looks like he wants to protest, but a raise of Marco’s eyebrow quells that impulse. For the second time that day, the two commanders find themselves sitting together, but this time it’s Marco that’s in the dark.

* * *

Okay, Ace _knows_ that throwing that punch was a bad idea, and the blank panic on Marco’s face only confirms it, but in his defense, what was he supposed to do when his dead brother showed up on the Moby after disappearing for ten years? Nothing? Besides, he knows Sabo could’ve dodged - he’s always been faster, even if Ace was stronger. If he let Ace punch him and then decided to play swooning maiden, that was his fault, and he promptly informs Marco as such.

Marco looks like he’s about three seconds from an aneurysm. 

“Your _dead brother_?”

Ace isn’t sure where the confusion is.

“Yeah! He got blown up by a Celestial Dragon when we were kids and died, only I guess he didn’t, because he’s here now. Or, not here, but in the infirmary with Haruta. Can I go see him now?”

Marco looks like he’s contemplating jumping off the Moby, so Ace takes that as a no.

“He’ll be fine that I punched him, we used to beat each other up a lot as kids when the bandits weren’t looking.” 

He personally thinks this should be reassuring, but Marco only looks more distressed. 

“I tried to kill our other brother and he’s fine now too, so it’ll all be okay, seriously!”

Marco’s head makes a hollow sound as it collides with the table, and his voice is slightly muffled as he says, “Look, Ace. Just. Stay away from the infirmary until he wakes up, okay? I’ll let you see him after if he permits it.”

“I’m sure he will! We are brothers, after all!” Ace is proud that his voice only wavers a little at this, but he knows Marco catches it by the concerned look the older man throws his way when he stands.

“Sure. Stay out of trouble for the rest of the day, okay?”

With an enthusiastic assent from Ace, Marco leaves for the infirmary, leaving Ace alone in the meeting room. He traces the tattoo on his shoulder. Brothers, no matter what. If Sabo doesn’t want to see him, that’s fine, but he left Luffy for ten years. He better have a good explanation for that.

* * *

Sabo doesn’t wake up for two days, and Marco spends most of that time alternating between checking the Revolutionary’s vitals, doing his paperwork, and handling Ace. The exhaustion of this finally catches up to him the night of the second day, which means that, when Sabo finally wakes up, Marco is asleep at his desk, and Sabo is alone.

It takes a few seconds for him to remember where he is, and in that time he’s already taken stock of his surroundings - no one in his immediate vicinity, but a number of trained and dangerous individuals around the ship. He takes note of a few that stand out - likely the commanders. Then, he makes his way for the infirmary exit. Whoever put him to bed was smart enough to leave him in his regular clothes - likely Marco, he doubts any of the nurses would’ve thought to consider how important his uniform, as it were, is. He doesn’t find his pipe, which is irritating, but he decides it’s a secondary worry - right now, his primary concern is locating Ace.

It doesn’t take too long - for one thing, Ace’s Haki is very distinctive. For another, Sabo just has to follow the smell of food. He finds his brother in the dining hall, surrounded by what he identifies as several of the Division Commanders. As he watches, Ace turns to snap at one of them, shoulder flickering into fire - _That’s new,_ part of Sabo’s brain comments, and _Portgas D. Ace, Logia Type: Mera Mera no Mi_ , another chimes in - and by the time he’s refocused, the commanders are ruffling Ace’s flaming hair with haki-coated hands. 

“Cute, isn’t it?” A voice comments from behind him.

Were Sabo even a little less well-trained, he would’ve jumped. As it is, though, he just turns around with a practiced smile solidly on his face, and tips his hat at 12th Division Commander Haruta.

“I was just surprised he has so little control over his fruit still.” He responds.

Haruta’s answering smile indicates exactly how little they believe him. “Sure! You planning to go in, or just keep lurking in the doorway and scaring the rookies?” 

Sabo casts a glance at the men at the tables nearest to the entrance, and watches them flinch back. “Not sure yet. I prefer not to cause a scene.”

Haruta rolls their eyes and slaps him on the back. “Stop being a pussy and go see your brother, would you? He’s been sulking for the past two days.”

Sabo stumbles forward, and the sudden quiet this move induces is enough to catch Ace’s attention. Shaking off the hands on him, he sprints across the dining hall, tackling Sabo to the ground. As the two scuffle on the ground and the noise level returns to normal, Sabo catches Haruta’s eye from where his head is caught under Ace’s knee, mouthing a quiet _Thank you_. Haruta shrugs. They might be strong, but they know their slap wasn’t hard enough to push Sabo forward. He did that himself.

* * *

Sabo - and Marco knows his name now, thanks to Ace’s inability to keep his mouth shut - fits in neatly on the Moby, after that. Marco doesn’t doubt that it’s intentional. Some of the lower-leveled crew members shy away from him at first, but his sunny smiles and lighthearted teasing serves to put them at ease quickly. All in all, it takes a matter of an hour or two for the man to feel like he’s been there forever - to most people, anyway. Marco doesn’t feel the same, and he doesn’t doubt that the Revolutionary knows that. When Sabo comes up to him after dinner to ask for a spar, though, Marco can’t help but agree. It’s not often he meets someone as skilled with Haki as the blond, and it would be good to get in some practice against someone who’s not on his crew. 

They clear a portion of the upper deck, with the help of Ace who, to be honest, Marco is a little surprised is letting this happen. It says a lot about his confidence in his brother’s abilities that he’s not worried about him fighting Marco, but then again, Ace has always been nothing if not fiercely loyal to his family. Marco carefully watches as the other man sets up his stance, noting his slight reliance on his right side. _So he was right about the burn damage not being purely cosmetic, then_. The stance is flexible and light, and Marco recalls hearing somewhere that the man fought like a cat. He’s not entirely surprised. 

With a nod from Jozu, who’s agreed to oversee them, Sabo begins an obviously telegraphed lunge, which Marco easily sidesteps, twisting to face him as he lands. The younger man perches on a railing of the Moby, and Marco can almost imagine a tail swaying happily behind him. He stifles a laugh at the mental image, which seems to be all the opening Sabo needs to make his second attack. Marco barely bends backwards enough to avoid haki-covered claws, and is abruptly reminded that the cat is a bird’s natural predator. Luckily, or unfortunately, depending on who you ask, Marco is no ordinary bird.

It takes the better part of a half hour, but eventually Marco gets the better of Sabo. Ace’s brother may be talented and vicious - and have a brilliant tactical mind - but Marco has two decades of experience, several dozen pounds, and several inches of height on him. In the end, he ends up on top of the younger man, one powerful talon pinning his neck to the ground. This, of course, is when the girl appears on deck.

* * *

Koala is not having it. First her bastard of a boss gets assigned to do recon, leaving her with all his paperwork, _then_ he decides to go pick a fight with the Whitebeards alone, and now he doesn’t call back, meaning she has to track the Moby Dick all the way into Paradise, sail there on the tiny ship she borrowed from headquarters, and sneak on board. None of which is very difficult, of course, but it’s a number of extra steps that could have been avoided if Sabo were just less of an idiot. This assessment of him is not helped by the fact that once she makes it on deck - and thank everything Dragon taught them how to minimalize Haki presence, or she would have been spotted immediately - the first thing she sees is her partner pinned to the ground, with one of Marco the Phoenix’s talons at his throat. She sighs. She is so fucking tired of cleaning up his messes.

She’s outnumbered, of course, so the first thing she does is take a hostage. Fire Fist Ace seems shocked when she grabs him, and even more so when he tries to phase through her hands but can’t _(really, did no one teach this kid about Haki?)_ , but his panicked shout is enough to get the attention of some of the crew. She can feel their gunman making a move for his pistols, but before he can, she places a Haki-covered hand at the Second Division Commander’s throat.

“One wrong move and I crush his windpipe.” She says sweetly. Personally, she rather hopes she gets to - the fact that he knows Sabo’s name makes him enough of an problem already. Unfortunately, though, the gunman backs down. 

Diamond Jozu steps up instead. “What do you want?”

She motions with her head to where Sabo is still pinned by the Phoenix, careful not to ease her grip at all. “Let my partner up before I kill your Commander.”

The two blonds don’t seem to have noticed the commotion, but the hush that falls over the deck at her request seems to get their attention. The other effect of the silence is that every single person on the top deck hears Sabo quietly whisper, “Oh, fuck.”

* * *

Sabo twists himself out from under Marco’s foot immediately, ignoring the other man’s surprise at how easily he had gotten out of the hold. Shit. He had assumed it had only been a day since he collapsed, and he hadn’t thought to double check because he got caught up in seeing Ace, and now that was coming back to bite him in the form of his partner, standing on deck, about ten seconds away from crushing his brother’s throat.

“Koala, wait.” The last thing he wanted to do was pull rank on her, she was pissed enough as is, but he hoped that the use of her given name would have her listen to him without him needing to do so. “Everything’s fine, just put him down and I’ll explain.”

She searched his face for a moment, checking for any of his tells, and seemed to be satisfied with what she found, unceremoniously dropping Ace to the deck, where he quickly scrambled away. “Well? Explain.”

Sabo was sure the careful few steps back he took before he started talking didn’t go unnoticed, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. “So...I got my memories back?”

* * *

Ace wasn’t sure if he liked Sabo’s partner. He knew Marco did, for all his distrust of the Revolutionaries, and had since her response to Sabo’s explanation was to punch the blond in the face for making her worry, but something kept him on edge. He tried to go to Marco, but the man just shrugged. 

“Listen, Ace, I may not trust her, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her.”

“She threatened to crush my throat!” Ace protests, but Marco’s eyebrow raise clearly intends to remind him that he tried to kill Pops over a hundred times and they still let _him_ join. Marco’s only response to his answering pout is to ruffle his hair with a chuckle, before he goes to supervise the drinking contest that the Revolutionary is having with Blamenco. Ace sighs. It’s not that he’s worried she’ll try something, he knows Marco is keeping an eye on her, he just plain doesn’t _like_ her.

A hand on his shoulder makes him jump, and then Sabo is pulling him up to sit on the railing where he’s perched himself.

“I can hear you sulking from across the deck. What’s going on?”

“I’m not _sulking_ ,” Ace says, before realizing he’s just proving Sabo right. 

The blond’s laugh makes him flush red. He feels like a kid again, getting scolded by Dadan for picking a fight he shouldn’t. He looks away from his brother, and his gaze lands on where Izo is draped across Sabo’s partner’s shoulders, laughing at something she’s saying. He feels too hot and too cold at the same time, and curls into himself a little further.

Sabo tracks his gaze. “Oh, so it’s that.”

Ace flares up slightly. “Don’t say it like it was something you expected, I don’t even know what’s _wrong_.”

His brother gives him a pitying look. “Oh, Ace. You mean you haven’t realized yet?” 

Ace isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be realizing, but Sabo must take pity on him as he continues. “You’re jealous.”

Marco glances back just in time to see Ace shove his brother into the water.

* * *

A showered and dried Sabo sits on Ace’s bed, poking through his drawers for something to wear. Ace himself is at his desk, facing away from his brother and stubbornly not talking. It’s Sabo who breaks the silence first.

“It’s okay to be jealous, you know.”

Ace turns around, a snarled denial already forming on his lips, but something in Sabo’s eyes, framed by damp blond curls, stops him before he can retort. He’s quiet for a second before he speaks.

“Oh. You too?”

Sabo nods. “You have so many brothers now, who watched you grow and know the way you walk and talk and eat and sleep, and I haven’t seen you since we were _twelve_. I left you.”

Ace shifts onto the bed, crawling behind his brother and looping his arms over his shoulders. “You forgot. It wasn’t your fault.”

Sabo crumples into the embrace. “I didn’t recognize you. It should’ve been enough.”

Ace sighs, tightening his grip. “Don’t be fucking stupid. Don’t you know how amnesia works? They didn’t teach you anything about the brain in your fancy little spy classes?”

Sabo rolls his eyes. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

Ace tugs him down so that they’re both laying on the bed, nose to nose. “If you keep feeling guilty about this I’m going to beat the shit out of you. It was the fault of that monster who shot at your ship, not you. Don’t start trying to take responsibility for the mistakes of a fucking Celestial Dragon.”

Sabo knocks their foreheads together. “You’re an idiot.”

Ace gives him a big grin. “Sure am! See? I really haven’t changed at all.”

* * *

Sabo leaves the next day. Koala all but drags him off the ship, but Ace can tell that he’s ready to leave too. He understands - Sabo’s job is, from what he knows, very important, and he’s likely been away far too long already. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t still blubber like a baby when Sabo tells him, nor that he doesn’t tuck a slip of his vivre card into the band of Sabo’s top hat when he thinks Marco isn’t looking. He fails, of course, and Marco rolls his eyes when he catches him, but Ace doesn’t get a lecture, so he considers it a win. But really, he isn’t upset as he could be. He trusts that his brother can take care of himself, and if he can’t, he knows that, as much as he hates the thought, Koala can take care of him in Ace’s stead. 

He makes a sour face at the thought, and Sabo grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get ample opportunities to fuss over me like a mother hen too.” 

He always could tell what Ace was thinking. As his boat pulls away from the Moby, Koala whispers something in Sabo’s ear. He throws his head back, curls bouncing against his shoulders, and his laugh cuts across the water. It’s just like Ace remembers it.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment if you liked or if you didn't maybe we can kiss


End file.
